In History Lie Like Bones
by Fikcja
Summary: In progress. "It seemed the important things--you were right, I'm sorry, and I love you--were no easier to write than they were to speak aloud." A series of letters written to Zevran after the Warden's duty as Commander of the Grey separates them.
1. All You Wish For and All You've Seen

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Dragon Age: Origins (and Dragon Age: Origins Awakening) and related characters/settings. Some dialogues and settings were taken directly from the game(s) and modified to fit this story.

* * *

**In History Lie Like Bones**

Acts of injustice done  
Between the setting and the rising sun  
In history lie like bones, each one.

—W. H. Auden

* * *

'In History Lie Like Bones' is basically just a little idea inspired by the above W. H. Auden quote since Zevran's absence in Awakening annoyed me to no end. Despite the Origins epilogue in which Zevran elects to travel with the Warden to rebuild the Order, I think enough time (about a year, based on Oghren being a father) has passed for circumstances and priorities to change. This is my take on how they separated and why the Warden sought Zevran out once the darkspawn threat to Amaranthine had been settled.

I realize the Warden seems quite angst-ridden in this chapter, and while this won't always be the case, being the hero of a dark fantasy like Dragon Age can't be easy, and I feel it's desirable to humanize the usually iconic and stoic Warden. So I thought I'd try a mix of two philosophies: we are what we think (Buddha) vs. we are what we pretend to be (Vonnegut) and see how it goes.

Also, I picture the name Munyn being pronounced "myou-nin," though you're obviously free to pronounce it however you wish. Munyn is a slightly more feminine spelling (I think, anyway) of the Scandinavian name Munin, meaning "memory." I thought it was appropriate since she's struggling to cope with memories of her past.

In any case, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it :)

* * *

**All You Wish For and All You've Seen**

**  
**"I picture you in the sun, wondering what went wrong  
And falling down on your knees, asking for sympathy  
And being caught in between all you wish for and all you've seen"

—_In the Sun_ by Joseph Arthur

----------------------------------_  
_

_My Dear Zevran…_

She stared at the parchment resting in her lap, empty save for the generic and ultimately meaningless address. The only progress in the past half hour had been from ink splatters that trickled across the page in ever changing patterns.

Frustrated, Munyn closed her eyes and allowed her head to drop into her hands. It seemed the important things—_you were right, I'm sorry, and I love you_—were no easier to write than they were to speak aloud, despite how relentlessly they'd plagued her thoughts since leaving Denerim.

She could scarcely believe the coronation ceremony had occurred less than a year ago. It seemed to her like the final battle against the darkspawn horde had taken place a lifetime ago… and perhaps, in a sense, it had. Her life, along with the lives of her companions, had seen a major upheaval in the months following victory over the Archdemon.

With the Blight ended and the throne occupied, many of her friends had elected to continue their travels independently. Alistair and Anora were, of course, engaged with their duties as King and Queen of Ferelden—an adventure in and of itself. Leliana was undertaking a pilgrimage to recover the Urn of Sacred Ashes, Wynne and Shale were embarking on a quest to restore Shale's mortality, Oghren, in keeping with his word to Felsi, was on his way to Lake Calenhad, and Sten had boarded a ship for his homeland before the celebrations had even truly ended, taking her Mabari war dog with him.

The pair of them had developed a remarkable bond during their travels, and though it pained her to part with the hound she'd shared half her life with, Munyn couldn't help but smile at how happy he seemed to be at the prospect of staying with the giant Qunari warrior.

As for Zevran… she ran an agitated hand through her hair. She had thought he would accompany her to help rebuild the Grey Wardens. In fact, he had been the one to suggest it.

"_You know, it does occur to me that staying in one place is only going to invite the Crows to find me that much quicker. While fun, that might eventually get… complicated. You said earlier that you were planning on returning to the Grey Warden fold soon. Is that true?"_

"_That is indeed what I said."_

"_And would you be in favour of my remaining with you? I've grown rather fond you, you see. Sad, but true."_

"_I'd like you to stay. With me."_

"_Now that's a request that I would be hard-pressed to refuse. So I won't. Let the Crows come. It will make for fun times and interesting party talk, yes?"_

Yet here she was, the so-called _Hero of Ferelden_, camped beside some eerily deserted road on her way to Vigil's Keep, without him. She pinched the bridge of her nose as her thoughts drifted back to their last encounter.

_She entered their room, pleased to finally spend some time alone with him after a day at court. Talking strategy and budgets for the protection and recovery of Ferelden with Alistair and Eamon was hard enough without having to convince the nobles that, 'Yes, this will work,' and 'No, you won't always have to make do without luxury silks from Orlais.'_

_She grinned when she saw him standing by the window, his fair hair illuminated by light from the setting sun. Approaching him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, letting her cheek rest against his back._

"_You were offered the position of Warden-Commander."_

_She felt, more than heard, the words rumble in his chest. Smile fading, she relaxed her embrace and lifted her head. Perhaps she had imagined the disapproval in his voice. But he did not turn to face her, instead continuing to gaze out over the busy streets of Denerim._

"_Zevran, I—"_

"_And you have already agreed."_

_It wasn't a question, and Munyn struggled to understand its implications._

"_I am the last remaining Grey Warden in all of Ferelden. I have a duty to—"_

"_Don't you dare!" he hissed, rounding on her. "I respect that you have a duty to the Wardens, but do __**not**__ presume to tell me that is the only reason you have accepted this position."_

"_What do you expect me to say, Zevran?" she asked quietly._

_That I abandoned my family to be murdered by a traitorous bastard? That I was quick to kill the man who saved my life even before fully realizing he was part of a Sloth Demon's nightmare? That I made decisions that cost the lives of countless good men and women? That maybe, just maybe, the good I can do as a Grey Warden might marginally atone for my failures?_

_Instead, all she said was, "That I enjoy being a Grey Warden and the responsibility that comes with it? I do."_

_Coward._

"_Nothing." Anger seemingly dissipated, Zevran tossed his hands up in resignation. "I expect you to speak while saying nothing. What, you think I do not I recognize the evasions, the elusions?" he continued, seeing her about to protest. "We are not so unalike."_

"_It's not like that," she tried._

_Only it was exactly like that. The last few months had been strained, to put it mildly. With all the idle time at the palace, guilt over past mistakes had wormed its way into her thoughts, eventually taking root and chipping away at her self-worth. And so she'd thrown herself into Warden business, hoping to forget the doubt that dogged her every step. Hoping to hide the unworthiness she felt each time Zevran whispered words of endearment in her ear._

_She was supposed to be strong, immutable. And now—_

"Commander?"

Munyn glanced up, startled out of her thoughts. Her guide—a nice enough woman who appeared relatively well-armed and well-trained in combat—was looking down at her.

"It's dawn," she gestured apologetically to the horizon, "and we've a ways to go, yet."

"So it is." Munyn smiled at the woman, a semblance of composure easily stealing over her features. The letter to Zevran would have to wait.

Rising with a yawn and a stretch, she crumpled the sorry piece of parchment and tossed it on the dying embers. Watching as a spark caught the dry paper, Munyn waited until it was entirely consumed by flame before grabbing her pack and falling into step beside her guide.

"Let's be on our way."

* * *

Story title, "In History Lie Like Bones," is taken from W. H. Auden's play, The Ascent of _**F6**_: A Tragedy in Two Acts.

Chapter title, "All You Wish for and All You've Seen," is from _In the Sun_, a song by Joseph Arthur.


	2. From the Living World Make Men

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Dragon Age: Origins (and Dragon Age: Origins Awakening) and related characters/settings. Some dialogues and settings were taken directly from the game(s) and modified to fit this story.

* * *

**From the Living World Make Men**

Though stung with a hundred arrows,  
Though suffering from ailments both great and small,  
His Heart was strong, and he moved on.

—Chant of Light

* * *

My Dear Zevran,

I imagined I would be writing this from some fancy study overlooking the Keep, telling you about its magnificent architecture, eager recruits, and king sized beds… things that might, perhaps, have held some allure for you. I had thought to enchant you with stories of life at the Vigil, maybe assure you that rebuilding the Grey Wardens would be a short-term endeavour. But we both know things never work out as planned.

Instead, I arrived to find Vigil's Keep under attack from darkspawn—talking darkspawn, Zevran. Intelligent creatures that decimated the Keep and captured the Orlesian Wardens residing there. The Seneschal says they came from the within the Keep itself, emerging from underground passages that connect to the Deep Roads. We sealed off the main tunnel leading to the Vigil, but who knows how many more exist throughout Amaranthine? Throughout Ferelden?

I had hoped to postpone the Joining ritual—I confided in you, once, what it entails—to give the recruits time to reconsider their commitment. But this strange, new darkspawn threat demanded I proceed. And one of the recruits died, Zevran. A passionate young woman, a knight in Ferelden's army. Mhairi was her name. She fought fiercely at my side to liberate the Keep and she was so dedicated, so certain that honour was to be found among the ranks of the Grey Wardens. But her body couldn't withstand the taint and I watched impassively as she collapsed. Fate is, as you said, a tricky whore.

I assured the others that she had given her life for the greater good, just as Duncan had said about the recruits at my Joining. But I, myself, am still trying to believe her sacrifice meant something. I used to resent Duncan for inflicting such a cruel fate on men and women who had the misfortune of wanting to serve and protect their country. But I wonder, now, if he too didn't have his doubts.

Naturally, my responsibility as Commander of the Grey didn't end there. I defied the Chantry by invoking the Right of Conscription on an apostate mage, I placed Alistair in the uncomfortable position of having to choose between the Right and the Maker, and I allowed a friend to risk death because he insisted he'd found his calling as a Grey Warden.

All for a tainted, nightmare-riddled life that will likely end too soon. A life full of unacknowledged sacrifices. A life where duty _must_ come first.

But I _will_ see them through this, Zevran. Amaranthine _will_ prosper. The Grey Wardens _will_ be rebuilt, and their honour _will_ be restored.

"_At last did the Maker  
From the living world  
Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth,  
With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear,  
Endless possibilities."_

It is my duty, and I _will_.

Always,

Munyn

* * *

Chapter title, "From the Living World Make Men" and quote, "At last did the Maker / From the living world / Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, / With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, / Endless possibilities" is from The Chant of Light: Canticle of Threnodies, Threnody 5 to be specific.

"It is my duty, and I will," is from the poem Captain Reece by William S. Gilbert.


	3. The Ties that Bind

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Dragon Age: Origins (and Dragon Age: Origins Awakening) and related characters/settings. Some dialogues and settings were taken directly from the game(s) and modified to fit this story.

* * *

**The Ties that Bind**

III

This is the dead land  
This is cactus land  
Here the stone images  
Are raised, here they receive  
The supplication of a dead man's hand  
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this  
In death's other kingdom  
Waking alone  
At the hour when we are  
Trembling with tenderness  
Lips that would kiss  
Form prayers to broken stone.

—T. S. Eliot, _The Hollow Men_

* * *

My Dear Zevran,

I conscripted Nathaniel Howe into the Grey Wardens. Ironic, isn't it? That he should become part of an order his father helped try to destroy?

He'd been imprisoned and sentenced to hang for stealing family heirlooms, and apparently required the force of four Wardens to be subdued. I barely recognized him, sitting in that cell. The last I saw him, he was just a boy. A boy that could actually challenge me in a sword fight. We spent a lot of time together, then, while our older brothers practiced politics and various other courtly charms. We raided the larder, played pranks on the soldiers, and chivied our siblings.

Antagonizing Brother Aldous, in particular, was a favourite pastime of ours. He tutored us over the summers, despite frequent laments that most of his lessons "disappeared into the yawning chasm between our ears." Well, they certainly _did_ make us yawn and, one day, we grew tired of listening to him drone on and on from some excruciatingly dry history text. Early the next morning, we snuck into the library to replace the cover sheef of "The History of Ferelden" with "Dragons of Tevinter," leaving the book itself on Brother Aldous' desk.

Naturally, we left clues to the book's whereabouts that sent Aldous on a grand hunt through the castle before leading him back to the library. He was suitably impressed—and suitably angry—with what he called our "brazen act of insouciance," mumbling something about wasted potential. He did, however, concede to the occasional use of a more fanciful text to encourage our reading and comprehension skills, and it was some time before inklings of a new scheme began to take root in our minds.

But none of that mattered when I saw him today. I saw no trace of the friend I once knew in the man standing before me—just the cold, hard gleam of vengeance. To him, I am his father's murderer, and he has every right to hate me for that. I destroyed his family just as effectively as his father destroyed mine.

You asked me, once, how I became a Grey Warden. I choked and we never spoke of it again. I was… recruited by Duncan the night of my family's murder. He was the Warden-Commander at the time, and he had come to our castle seeking recruits. He saved my life that night, pulling me from the wreckage as everything I loved burned down around me. But nothing comes without a price… and I paid for that escape with my parents' lives.

I watched Howe's guards cut down the people dearest to me. I watched my mother choke back her grief at the slaughter of her grandson—my nephew—to kill the bastards who would murder innocents. I watched valiant, courageous men fight against insurmountable odds to buy my family time. But my father was wounded too severely to stand, let alone escape, and my mother refused to leave his side, determined to defend him to the death.

I should have remained with them. I should have fought alongside my mother and defended my parents, my family, and my home. But my father insisted that Duncan lead me to safety. And he agreed… in exchange for my joining the Grey Warden ranks.

I was prepared to refuse, but the fierce determination in my father's eyes stayed my tongue. He told me that our family _always_ does our duty first, that the darkspawn must be defeated, and that I _must_ go. And so I agreed to follow Duncan, leaving my father lying in a pool of his own blood and my mother training her bow on the doorway as the castle gates collapsed around us.

"Rules and responsibilities: these are the ties that bind us. We do what we do, because of who we are. If we did otherwise, we would not be ourselves. I will do what I have to do. And I will do what I must."

_I will do what I have to do. And I will do what I must._

You were quick to condemn me for saying this, for acting on this. But you walk the earth you are forgetting—you and I are not the products of happy lives of contentment. Regret will always dog my steps, Zevran, and the good I can do as a Warden… sometimes it allows me to outpace that regret by a stride or two.

You asked me, once, how I became a Grey Warden. I became a Grey Warden because I traded survival for a life committed to the Order. I abandoned my parents, leaving them to die at the hands of Arl Rendon Howe. I became a Grey Warden at the cost my parents' lives. I remain a Grey Warden at the cost of countless others.

Maybe this time, by affording Nathaniel the opportunity to restore honour to the family name I destroyed, I can save a life instead.

Always,

Munyn

* * *

Chapter Title, "The Ties that Bind Us" and quote, ""Rules and responsibilities: these are the ties that bind us. We do what we do, because of who we are. If we did otherwise, we would not be ourselves. I will do what I have to do. And I will do what I must," are from The Sandman: Book of Dreams by Neil Gaiman.

"You walk the earth you are forgetting," is from the poem Forget by Czeslaw Milosz.


	4. Sunlight on a Broken Column

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Dragon Age: Origins (and Dragon Age: Origins Awakening) and related characters/settings. Some dialogues and settings were taken directly from the game(s) and modified to fit this story.

* * *

**Sunlight on a Broken Column**

II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams  
In death's dream kingdom  
These do not appear:  
There, the eyes are  
Sunlight on a broken column  
There, is a tree swinging  
And voices are  
In the wind's singing  
More distant and more solemn  
Than a fading star

—T. S. Eliot, _The Hollow Men_

* * *

_My Dear Zevran,_

_You were right._

The last assassin lay dying at her feet, easily run through by the blade Master Wade had crafted for her. She watched with morbid fascination as the last gurgling breath escaped his lungs before a swift kick of her boot rolled him over, exposing a uniquely curved dagger she'd seen wielded, cleaned, sharpened, and twirled countless times before. A blade she'd felt pressed against her throat first in bloodlust and later in sparring victory.

_Right about the Crows still coming after me._

"They weren't supposed to accept any new contracts on us," she murmured. Further thoughts on the matter were cut short, however, by the approach of Captain Garavel. A straightforward man, the Captain surveyed the hall with seasoned aplomb.

"First a riot, now this… Blast it," he muttered, taking stock of their surroundings. Bodies littered the floor around them, blood splatters and magical scorch marks stained the walls.

"How is Seneschal Varel?" she asked, turning her attention to the man sitting propped up against the far wall.

"Varel's been hit," the Captain said, confirming her suspicions. "It looks glancing, he'll live."

Munyn felt a surge of relief flow though her at his words. Varel had devoted his life to defending Amaranthine and the Vigil. An honourable man, he had opposed the late Rendon Howe and done his best to protect people from the arl's atrocious schemes. Now, he took care of the day-to-day matters of the Keep and advised Munyn on affairs of state. She trusted him implicitly.

"That was a very brave thing he did, stepping in front of that arrow. He may have saved my life."

"I'll have the herbalist attend to him immediately," the Captain assured her, turning to hail one of his soldiers.

As they conversed, Munyn returned her gaze to the destruction surrounding them. Her eyes raked over the scene—injured soldiers limping away from the battle scene, healers bustling to and fro, men checking the bodies for clues regarding the attack. One body, in particular, drew her attention. She identified the woman immediately and a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach. Judging by the vise-like grip on her arm, Garavel had recognized her, too.

"Andraste's blood," the Captain choked, "That's—that's Bann Esmerelle!"

This did not look good. Amaranthine was already in trouble with blocked trade routes, darkspawn invasions of farmlands and cities, and insufficient manpower to defend all three. Munyn's own purse was almost empty from funding repairs and equipment upgrades in addition to donating to the Keep's perpetually empty coffer. And now she had the death of a Bann on her hands.

_Right about the situation in Amaranthine being difficult._

The woman had been a bloody nuisance, always yammering on about compensation for the lands she'd been promised by the former arl and the need for increased defenses around the city at the expense of farming folk and their lands.

Munyn had been warned that Bann Esmerelle had ties with the late Rendon Howe and that she had lost much with the arl's death and subsequent disgrace. The Bann was certainly petty and selfish enough to hatch a conspiracy against the usurper of Howe's Arldom, but Munyn had never actually believed her capable of following through with the attempt.

Clearly she'd underestimated the woman. Now it looked like her lapse in judgment could seriously undermine her position as Warden Commander and, by extension, liege lord of Amaranthine. To anyone from the outside it would look like she was either eliminating opposition or seeking revenge for Howe's role in her family's murder, neither of which inspired much confidence in her leadership ability.

_Right about the dangers of navigating political intrigue._

"Damn," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The riot was a distraction. This was the main event," Munyn gestured vaguely to the bodies littering the ground around them.

"She was a fool to attack you," the Captain said, shaking his head. "I'll have trusted men clean this up. We can keep this quiet for a while. There's enough cause for panic already, Commander."

With a heavy sigh, Munyn turned away from the bloodied hall and left Garavel to organize the clean up. Once in her chambers, she sat down heavily at her desk and reached for the unfinished letter to Zevran.

…_One of the recruits, a mage by the name of Anders, asked me what I would do if I didn't have to be a Grey Warden. He thought I was joking when I said I'd leave, that there were things to do elsewhere. But I didn't realize just how much I've sacrificed in the name of duty until I arrived at Vigil's Keep. Or maybe I just chose to ignore it. I thought coming here, restoring the Order and rebuilding the arling, would help repay my debt to my family and my friends. That it would give their deaths meaning. But you were right. Absolution doesn't lie in Amaranthine, just as it didn't lie in killing Howe or in ending the Blight. Maybe you've been right this entire time. About everything._

_Maybe it doesn't lie within the Wardens at all._

_Always,_

_Munyn_


End file.
